


Derek gets VERY jealous

by Every_Sourwolfs_Dream



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angry Derek, Banshee Lydia Martin, Jealous Derek, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Pining Derek, danny x stiles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:38:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Every_Sourwolfs_Dream/pseuds/Every_Sourwolfs_Dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia raised a perfect eyebrow, “It’s what they want.”<br/>“Stiles doesn't know what he wants! ” Derek challenged under his breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ;D I hope you enjoy today's piece.  
> Derek gets VERY jealous over Stiles X Danny…  
> Prompt word was: rattle

The locker was left rattling as Derek stalked through the corridor pushing a few freshmen out of the way to their unbuttoned protests.  
He was practically bristling.  
And he had a right to be.  
Stiles was his.  
His… well…  
Damn. Stiles wasn’t his anything, which just pissed him off even more.

Lydia shuffled uncomfortably when Derek slammed his newly hand-melded lunch tray into the table.  
She sighed flippantly, tossing her strawberry hair over her slim shoulder,  
“I assume by that conniption you’ve heard the news.”  
Derek plainly growled.  
Lydia raised a perfect eyebrow, “It’s what they want.”  
“Stiles doesn’t know what he wants! ” Derek challenged under his breath.  
His point severely contravened by the small cheer that went up in the cafeteria.  
Derek turned in just enough time to see Danny and Stiles shyly kissing by the trash can.


	2. Light as a feather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word: feather

He had a fucking feather in his hair.  
Gorgeous, light and fluffy.  
He had to didn't he?  
Anything to confuse his perfect little gaze, wondering as Danny tentatively brushed the unblemished top of his ear.  
Danny traced his jawline, to the obliviated joy of Stiles, and produced the perfectly fluffy, paper-white object from behind his ear.  
They leant, no longer hesitant, into embra--  
"Dude!"  
Derek growled himself out of his subconscious trance to Scott scolding and obscuring his view of Stiles completely. Derek slumped his shoulders, in both disappointment and surrender.   
"You like Stiles. But calling you a stalker is pretty discrete."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as per many a request, I am continuing the story of 'a VERY jealous Derek'.  
> This chapter is also in the form of a drabble, but who knows!? The next chapter could be 10000000000 words (I assure you it won't be).  
> Keep posted!


	3. Wonder Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Sorry it's taken me so long! I promise I won't leave it so long next time ; )  
> In which Derek blows his convinced one and only chance with Stiles, an extremely emaciated Derek, the sourwolf needs a huggy bear. this chapter is dangerously more mopey than the last one.

Derek continued to gawp at the obsurdly mundane textbook, knuckles kneading his cheaks above elbows hiked up on the desk.  Today was ordinary.  Yesterday was just as tiresome.  Tomorrow would undoubtedly result in a wish wash of quotidian. Yup. Derek's life pretty much reinacted itself on a monotonous daily basis.  He soon gave up on gloopy, preoccupied reading and slunk out of the library,  satchel dragging behind. He expired, chest heaving in the most angsty way possible. Derek was designed to be a dark and stormy Diesel model. As he trapced past the canteen he resited the urge to waist yet another hour pinning over a certain unavailable-hazle-eyed-wonder-boy. Derek's brain briefly serenaded "hiiiggh above the mucky muck." and continued on his dilapidated journey.  He admitted he atleast deserved some credit, he shook it up a little this morning- he'd purchased chocolate bonbons, that was new. Oh man, he needed to get out more. **** Derek waited, gourming at the clock. Fuck double chem, it always made him peckish for raw rabbit- no clues why. His mind wandered. A sharp crack verbirated through his sensitive eardrums. Fuck. "DEREK!" Lydia stanced in front of him, pursing her cherry scented lips, "Stop moping and go and get the hydrochloric acid." Don't piss off Lydia.  Derek mentally scribbled thar down. She slid into the seat next to him, her glare softening, hand resting on Derek's leather clad arm, "If you didn't look so damned narcissistic for once, maybe people would..." Derek took in her delicate freakles as his best friend searched momentarily for words, "approach you more." She frowned, seemingly aggrivated by her less-than-tactful choice of words. Derek nodded resolutely nonetheless- he and Lydia weren't the most kid-glove of people. Still,  Derek wasn't ashamed to admit (seeing that no one ever asked) that under his mesomorphic exterior and incorrectly-assumed sadistic vibes, he was pretty much a giant pom-pom. Derek was the supernova of sweet tooth's, the shipper of Destiel, the romantisiser of hand-holding. Once-upon-a-time he and Laura even put on a MoriGirl fashion show back at the once vibrant Hale house (he had disposed of any  photographic evidence at pre-testosterone angst). Agreeably,  he remained fractionally egotistical,  but a masculine man can still love teddy bears unconditionally (especially penguins). The shrill bell announcing the end of the day brought Derek back to attention. Lydia had long since given up on witnessing Derek move an inch, so she continued to complete the experiment solo before any other groups. Derek was about to stroll out from under the door frame, prepared to embrace the weekend when a hearty grasp on the shoulder destroyed his, agurably already-shitty week. Detention.  With Greenburg. "Do you simply survive on the high of obliterating teenagers spirits? We have soul's unlike you, you know?" Derek was brought out of his slumped stouper at the back of the rebel filled science lab. Only one poor, wit-filled person would fire such a remark. Greenburg almost turned the shade of his name with spite. His eyes squinted like lazers, "Today is your lucky day, you despicable mops," his mouth twitched up slightly in some kind of mentally-scarring, half-mauled smirk.  "We're going on a field trip." The whole room wallowed in a communal moan. Community service. Please. Please.  Please. "Charlotte and Matt, you burdens get the library." Shit. There were only three people remaining in the classroom.  Crap. Greenburg. Bugger. Derek. Fuck. And-- "Stilinski and Hale. You notorious lumps get the Gym." Derek stood awkwardly on the basketball court, mop in one hand, bucket resting against his shins."Ummm..."Stiles pulls out the biggest durpy grin and scratches the back of his head. Now is not the time, Derek wills his dick. That would be way beyond inappropriate. He feels inappropriate even in having to propell his thoughts elsewhere. "Best get to work." Derek juts through gritted teeth. Stiles frowns, ugh, pat on the back Derek, at Derek's  apparent affluent lack of social skills.  An hour later Derek wanted to cry at the lack of sound, with the exception of Stiles pissed off gripes and grumbles accompanied with the endless scraping-off of gum. Derek began to wonder whether he was breathing too loud. Was he too creepily quiet? Was it obvious he was stalking Stiles with his eyes? What if Stiles has super hearing? What if he can readminds? What if he knows? What if he KNOWS? Each story became more and more far fetched until Derek began to question whether he was thinking at all.Before he knew it, he'd worked round his half of the hall. "Oh shit!" Derek's breath hitched dramatically at the sound of Stiles' voice in such stifling proximity (Stiles was still about a metre and a half away,  eyelashes fluttering nervously, but it still counts). "Sorry," Stiles ramles "This is just so damn boring! I tried to go faster to get this disgustingly irritating job out of the way, then I dropped the scraper. Scraper? Is that what you'd call it? I mean, not you personally. Who sticks gum in between bricks anway..." Derek guiltily reminised about his disgusting sophomore habit. Derek was vaguely aware, somewhere in his consciousness of his lips moving, his vocal chords shaping... What was Stiles saying? Ugh, why the fuck was he dating danny of all people? Why was he dating anyone? Do they want sex? Oh god, they've probably already fucked, like, twice. And...Stiles was gawping at him. Shit. He, Derek-douchebag-Hale, had just emptied that whole train of thought out through his mouth and straight into Stiles-saint-Stilinski's eardrum. "Fuck. That wasn't meant to..." "No shit." Stiles crossed his arms, slanting one hip, suddenly venomous in hatred. "You know," Stiles fired a shotgun-full of sarcasm, "Not all guys are sex-crazed maniacs. One week and seven hours I've been dating a seriously hot guy- who knows we're dating." Flushing cheaks enveloped at the slight relationship-counting-overdrive, but continued nonetheless, "One week!" Stiles looked at an incredulous Derek. "I-- ugh, God!? Why am I even still talking to you, you judgmental dickhead." He shook his head in disbelief, flailing as Derek continued, motionless, to cease breathing. And with that Stiles screetched his maroon converses round on the glazed flooring and started across the hall. "--I'm gay!" Derek blurted out. Stiles stopped, hulk stomping around, squinting in a cocktail of skepticism and confusion.  "Whoopdie-fucking-do. I'll go tell a news team to broadcast tonight." And with that, he was gone. Derek didn't expect to coming out to be dismissed as so audibly blasé. The repetition of Derek's daily life was slowly running it's course. Derek stood awkwardly once more on the basketball court, mop in one hand, bucket resting against his shins. Isaac gave a cheery wave as he wandered in from the track, promptly stumbling away from Derek's gormless expression (who had remained motionless in the gym after his considerably scarring ordeal). Derek continued to look disturbed and debated on letting himself get squished behind the beechers. A tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered, "I shall name him squishy; and squishy shall be mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the continuing kudos!  
> :') love you guys!


	4. Porn Magazines (but no porn...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gains a discovers a rather indifferent admirer and Stiles leaves him bleeding on the floor, although, it's never as bad as it sounds.  
> There's no need to be so damn rude stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who hates valentines day!  
> :) thank you for putting up with my intermittent updating...  
> Love you guys!

Derek hated valentines day.  
All the stupid fucking hearts. The roses. The sweets. The tins of chocolates.  
Derek was a liar.  
*****

After his exploration into the unknown last week, Derek had moved on from chocolate bonbons.  
Derek contemplated how long it would take him to become obese, as he slouched in front of an old VCR in the ground floor of the dusty Hale house. Producing a handful of strawberry pencils, the other hand remained down his pants

 

In all honesty, Derek had debated on never leaving the comfort of his house again. Hermit-dom seemed like a sustainable life choice right now.  
But nonetheless, here was, in Target, guzzling a can of monster, starting at the magazine rack,-wondering whether he'd feel pervy looking at a boob magazine (he likes any angle of the coin, let alone sides).  
It was in that moment, he wished he'd bothered to put actual clothes on instead of pj bottoms and an Oreos T-shirt.  
There in front of him stood the one and only, the miss congeniality of Beckon Hills, the strawberry fucking princess, his too very best friend,  
Lydia Martin.  
Looking like she was going to vomit and turn into Godzilla at the same bloody time.

Well, at least he was getting some attention on valentines day.  
The store clerk opposite the unsuitable magazine rack had paused in central to calling security, a useless gorm settling as he tried to make sense of what the fuck was happening.  
Derek blinked up through glistening eyes, squinting at a slightly afraid looking Aiden.  
He was pretty sure a kitten heel had castrated him.  
Jesus.  
"Umm" Aiden tried and failed, a bunch of roses hung limply at his side.  
"I'm so mad right now." Lydia hissed, anger consuming her romantic evening.  
Derek managed to scrape himself off the floor.  
"Dude..." a cringing Aiden took in Derek's, quite frankly, disgusting appearance. It was at this point Derek realised how dire he must look- from every angle.  
"I try to understand his logic, but I struggle," Lydia stressed to her boyfriend, pushed to the point of anguish for her friend.  
"I'm losing sympathy for you Derek."  
And with that, Derek was left standing awkwardly in target, clutching a now considerably crumpled porn mag.  
A woman shuffled her pre-schooler past.  
Yep. Definitely his lowest point so far.

*****  
Derek regretted not bothering to go to his locker after gym on friday night.  
Derek could do nothing but stare at the delicately folded, pastel-pink envelope that had just flipped out of his locker, settling between his converse-d feet.  
He gulped.  
Bending slowly, DEFINATELY not having a minor collision between his forehead and locker.  
"Composure," Derek uttered to himself.  
Shiitttt.  
He flicked the purposely paper-cut-inducing valentines note between regretful fingers. Ugh, what the hell, he'd just openly admitted what this slip of fate was.  
Please don't be Veera.  
Please don't be Stiles.  
Please be Stiles.  
Don't be prissy Derek. Or piney- that seemed work.  
"Huh" Derek sniggered to himself, how wonderfully hilarious would it be if it was from Danny. He batted away the thought, vowing he wouldn't wish that upon Stiles- or himself.

Derek shuddered as he pealed open the perfumed parchment- inwardly cringing at the prospect that someone had slobbered alllllll over it.

Fucking hell. This just made things a heck of a lot worse.  
Erica Reese.  
Derek had to admit- he wasn't completely surprised by the end of the messily formed poem/letter. It was swathed in sarcasm from the go (it even featured a resemblance bewtween him and the Grumpy Cat).  
Derek sighed. If it had come from any other human-being he would have assumed it a joke. A pre-April fool's.  
But no, the overly sassy, equally, hot Erica had to pour her less than tactful dreams into a love letter. To the most seemly narcissistic guy in Beacon Hills.

"Finally." Erica's crisp voices spiked his back. Holy shi--  
Not for the second time Derek smashed his skull against the metal ridge frame of his locker.  
This would be the day that was notorious for angsty hottie Hale knocking himself out.

**  
"No..." Derek tried to grab hold of the last slips of unconsciousness, a place where he still had dignity, and considerable less pain.  
Thank god he was lying down this time as an overly curious, and considerably touchy-feely, Erica Reese peered over him.

"I would hate you, but if you're up for friends with benefits? ..."  
"..what?" Derek was skeptical and confused after his mini coma.  
"So you're gay?"  
"Erica slow down."  
"How can you not love me." It wasn't an audible questions and she seemed remarkably unfased. "We're both narcissistic," she considered, why does everyone keep saying that?  
She really didn't look that upset...  
"No I'm not," it occurred to him in that moment, that's what he should have said to Stiles, Erica titled her head. "Gay, I mean."  
Derek gestured, trying to find the words,   
"well, sort of, I like guys as well as girls- but I like people outside of the binary too!"  
Erica titled her head even further (surely her head was going to fall off?) Clearly trying to understand.  
Derek struggled for a moment,  "I'm pansexual- I dunno, yeah I guess... I like people regardless of their gender."  
"Oohh, I think I get it... there's more than two genders right?" .... seemed secretly smug she understood something no-one else had officially heard from Derek Hale.  
After a moment it went back to being awkward.  
"So um.... yeah" ... managed Derek.  
"Well." Erica declared "I'm still deeply in love."  
Then she left.  
what?  
Derek didn't even know what that was. Was she just scarily good at hiding emotions? Even he, stoic Derek Hale, had revealed a whole chart of emotion in the last 48 hours.  
He touched his head. Blood. Fuck.  
Derek swore under his breath, head swaying like hell as he swung his legs off the nurses bed.  
Why do I keep fucking up? He pondered.  
Finally, after some balance regain he looked up.  
Shit.  
He nearly hit his head, again, fuck,against the solid medical room wall. Toppling off the bed, leaving him swimming once more.  
There, slanted in the doorway, was Stiles sacred Stilinski.  
Nope.  
There was no moment.  
Stiles slung his shoulder bag up, leaving his excursion to look for the nurse for whatever reason, and left a stranded Derek on the floor.


	5. Sweeny Todd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if this guy, who looked auspiciously murderous, actually was an axe wielding psychopath? Stiles' inner sass rolled its eyes while the validated side of his brain picked through the possible countries the guy could have escaped from. Mexico maybe? He looks like a Miguel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this next update! There's not much development but it's important to get the story moving! (Sorry for any silly mistakes)
> 
> Would anyone like some input for what happens next? Let me know in the comments.

He was kind of self righteous, and had to be some close relation of the grumpy cat, Stiles observed. And, admittedly, he was kind of cautious.  
What if this guy, who looked auspiciously murderous, actually was an axe wielding psychopath? Stiles had humilated, and probably hurt, the surprisingly sensitive young man- more than once.  
"Why are you defending him?" The bitch of Stiles' subconscious warranted.   
"Because you know how hard it is to accept yourself," another voice sidled in, "Don't be a guilty dick, Stiles."  
The teen sighed, picking up his psychology books (how apt!) And dragged his bag across the lunch table.  
Thank God Danny was off, spewing his guts out all over his new carpet, otherwise Stiles would DEFINITELY not be doing this.  
Is it?  
Is it really a good idea?   
Stiles inwardly cringed. After all he did just admit to himself this guy could be a class-one ostracised man slayer.  
Well damn.  
Eyebrows boy had all but gone and seen him trawling towards their table. Stiles has nothing left but hope and pray he wasn't discovered two weeks later, baked in a pie.  
By the time Stiles leaned a slender hip against the table, this dudes eyebrows were off the charts, somehow shuffling their way into his hair line. Stiles swallowed, noting how all the guy's friends had vivaciously vacated the scene, leaving the pair of them in an awkwardly-visable, 2m radius gap in the canteen.  
"So..." the ordinarily flamboyant Stiles whistled through his perfect teeth,  rocking back and forth pacingly on his heels.  
"I'm really sorry! " his leather-clad peer blurted out, eyebrows crumpling down to the bridge of his nose (it's a wonder how he kept them up in the heavens for so long.)  
Stiles went for the 'it's-all-ahoy-matey' approach and awarded the angsty antagonist a- probably little too violent- slap on the back.  
The sexuality declarer, Edward Cullen boy, took a sharp inhale of breath.   
Shit.   
Stiles hoped he was at least labelled as a steak pie.  
******  
Stiles was still suspicious, but "Derek" seemed to be relatively friendly for a possible murdering-fugitive candidate.  
Stiles' inner sass rolled its eyes while the validated side of his brain picked through the possible countries the guy could have escaped from. Mexico maybe? He looks like a Miguel.  
Stiles snapped to attention when he realised Derek had ceased discussion. Stiles pulled out the generic-I-was-listening card. A speciality on his part; "Of course. Totally, totally see where you're coming from."  
Derek frowned.  
Shit.  
Then smiled.  
Thank the lord. Stiles was still at risk of not seeing the next dawn, his hula-hooping ego fainted slightly at the idea.  
"See you round." Derek nudged Stiles' shoulder, forcing him into the present once more. "Um...yeah." Stiles bit his lip. Shrugged. Then gave up a sheepish grin, turning tail.

As soon as he rounded the corner, Stiles, somewhat melodramatically; collapsed into the corridor wall.  
From the moment Allison picked up the phone she was, correctly, prepared for incessant ramblings from Stilinski.  
"I am in DEEP shit. I don't think he knows I wasn't listening? He seemed pissed, but contented with all the shit that fell out my mouth. God he's so angsty. Maybe it's the eyebrows?  Have you seen those monumental things? Shit, I hope I didn't say that to his face!?" Stiles descended into a natural bout of flailing."I didn't even apologise! He fucking apologised- which defeats the whole purpose of me going over there in the first place. His buddies practically melted into thin air making it unbelievably obvious. Oh god. EVERYBODY KNOWS." Allison stored her unfathomable amounts of confusion and questions and curiosity till Stiles was finished.   
"I don't want to be labelled Chicken Pie." He rounded off, finally letting his lungs exhume some air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that not much gets explained in the way of there conversation, more will be revealed from Derek's perspective in the next chapter, I just wanted to demonstrate how frantic Stiles' mind is at the moment.  
> Thanks again for all the love guys.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek was back to his usual antics as soon as Stiles was gone; attempting to pull a mask on as his friends practically drugged him with questions. Eventually he was left bunking 6th period on park swings with Isaac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally... my humblest apologies for the time gap. Life, as ever.
> 
> I decided to explore a friendship with Isaac and Derek.

Rude.Stiles wasn't even listening.  
Derek was stunned to see the fellow young man slinking his way towards their table. He obviously thought Derek hadn't noticed, as he bobbed his slender face around in some awkward attempt to gain a better view of Derek.  
Lydia noticed first, seated next to Derek, she flicked her ever-observant pupils upwards from her copy of 'to kill a mockingbird', in order to see a flailing and altogether nosey Stiles.  
She sat, tapping her golden nails, a sign she knew as only recognisable to Derek.

Derek turned his head from the fork in his hand, slowly peering at his neighbour. Something was about to happen, something he was NOT prepared to endure.  
Discretion was his forte, but not to the ever observant Jackson. Tactful class was certainly not on par with Lydia's boyfriend however.  
As Jackson swung his head round to engulf whatever view Derek was so valiantly sheepish about.And, of course, the others followed suit.   
In unison the group dissolved from the area,  only Kira biting her lip under the guilt.

"So..." Stiles whistled through his perfect teeth, confidence radiating in the eyes of Derek.  
"I'm really sorry! " the deed was done.   
Why the fuck was Derek apologising?   
Granted, he may have suggested that saint-Stiles was a slag, but the guy hadn't been altogether civil himself!  
Derek's shoulders sagged in defeat before he turned to swing his leg over the table,  in a last honorable attempt to scrabble in the dirt for any dignity that he could muster up.   
But a gentle hand on his forearm pulled him short. Swinging his head guiltily upwards to look at Stiles hovring above him.

There was a moment of silence. It was the first time Derek had seen the exuberant Stiles not searching for words, instead, he took a fine-few seconds to study Derek as the said looked up at him through dark hair.  
Derek could almost hear his crush, (no comment), asking if he was okay. He could almost see him leaning towards Derek in the crowded cafeteria. Almost feel the feel the soft brush of lips against his newly stubbled, and somewhat patchy, face.

Almost. 

But his daydreams crash landed and sunk six feet under when he recieved a forceful slap on the back, a minor heart attack,  and a little-too-enthusiastic laugh from Stiles.  
He tried hard not to feel jaded.  
He listened to Stiles babble on. First about how 'hilarious' their first meetings were, Derek tried not to let himself get annoyed, smiling and laughing along. He listened to Stiles moan about their new literature-study, Derek gritted his teeth, thinking lovingly of Paradise Lost. He listened to Stiles chirp on about his exasperation with Danny and his new carpet, and his no-feet-up-on-the-dashboard rule, and his constant assuming that everyone's gay or not gay. Derek enjoyed this part at first, but the further they reached into Stiles' admissions, it was starting to feel like a one-sided, rather animated, letter to an agony aunt than an acctual conversation.   
By the end of forty minutes there was finally a brief pause in the conversation (Stiles atleast had the grace to blush, Derek assumed it was at the endless flow of shit that he had just endured being poured into his eardrums.)  
At this lull in the conversation, Derek decided he wouldn't be him without being reckless.

"Do you want to go out with me? I mean out, like outside! Not, yeah. I know you have a boyfriend, I'm not insinuating, I just, as friends?"

Real smooth Hale. Real smooth.

Stiles seemed cool and collected, Derek was in awe with this guy.  
"Of course. Totally, totally see where you're coming from."  
Derek frowned.  
What?  
Are you fucking with me!?  
The guy wasn't even listening, not that I haven't listened to his shit storm for the last forty minutes!

Derek grimaced, simmering under the surface. Stiles somehow managed to interpret that mangled excuse for a grin as a gracious smile. What the fuck must this dude think of him?  
Another moment.  
"See you round." Derek smacked Stiles into the present with a shoulder, a little more violently than he meant. But this daydreaming prick didn't seem to notice.    
Derek made himself stand, looking as fierce as possible. Stiles simply gazed up at him, expression unreadable, was it something els...no. "Um...yeah." Stiles bit his lip. Shrugged. Then gave up a sheepish grin, turning tail.

Derek was back to his usual antics as soon as Stiles was gone; attempting to pull a mask on as his friends practically drugged him with questions. Eventually he was left bunking 6th period sitting on a park swing next to Isaac.  
Isaac frowned, taking on the form of a puppy that rivalled Scott's default expression.  
"Well I think he was extremely rude." He summarised,   
"I have no idea why you like the guy," Derek froze, evilling Isaac, who was now swinging to his hearts content. He ran to slow his legs down.  
"Come on." He shruged, "So you've never explicitly told us you're gay, but we all kind of guessed,  
"I--"  
Isaac put a hand up to stop him, "although Lydia seems to think you're ...pan...sexual? Pansexual. So we all just went with that." He grinned.   
Derek felt like a ten tonne of bricks and a dead cow had been lifted off his shoulders. "So back to the immediate subjec--"  
It was Derek's turn to cut him off.  
He shrugged half-heartedly,  "Look, I know, he's cocky, arrogant and bit of an arse, but he seemed... down to earth? I didn't think those things could tie together,  but they sure do. And he gets so cute and animated when he's aggrivated,"  Derek frowned at the memory of the brush off of Paradise Lost.  
"I asked him on a date." Derek finished, knowing he wouldn't confess this to anybody else. He knew the others would take it as a bully point, rather entertaining. But Isaac? He cherished the guys ability to listen without interfering, even going as far as to feign disinterest for Derek's sake.  
"Hmm?"Isaac gestured for him to continue.

Derek looked down, resigned,"He didn't even listen, he  gormed  out." Muttered sullenly under his breath.  
"Well shit." Isaac replied, standing up to allow Derek's head to sink into his tummy. 

Why are people so difficult? Isaac pondered with exasperation.  
"On a lighter subject," Derek grunted a into Isaac's shirt. Isaac chuckled, continuing, "I got a love letter from that Erica girl a little while back, and now she keeps asking me for a threesome with someone!? She won't even tell me who!?"  
Derek looked up at Isaac's horrified expression,  Derek equally as scarred.   
"Did you... say no?" Derek managed to stutter, "Dude!" Isaac pushed him, setting off the swing, "who do think I am!? Of course I wouldn't- it's Erica! And, a stranger!"  
Derek nodded. Thank fuck. His heart beat became less frantic, vowing he would never tell Isaac that 'stranger' was waaay to platonically close to him for things not to be awkward.   
He shuddered.  
Derek challenged Isaac to see who could swing the highest. He could be childish with Isaac too,  another reason to cherish their friendship.


	7. Make time to forget

Derek felt like he had been completely fucked over. I mean, it didn't really make sense.  
He prefered it when he was angry all the time, throwing his weight around and making freshmen shit themselves silly.  
The usually self-sustaining teen had lost the tight grip on his emotions. He hasn't ever been this out of control. He felt like shit.  
Since that horrible detention incident, he hadn't stopped processing events, churning them up until he was convinced he was remembering them incorrectly.  
It was time to put a stop to all this smushy crap. He would forget about the detention, valentines day, the nurses office, the cafeteria rudeness. He, most importantly, would forget about Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a very short chapter, a hint of what's to come. Thank you for sticking with the story and all the continuing kudos. I plan on smartening up the previous stuff over the next couple of days.  
> :)

**Author's Note:**

> By every-sourwolfs-dream  
> Heehee! My first fic involving Danny & Stiles x  
> I hope you like it!  
> Please check out my tumblr! (Under the same name.)


End file.
